


lavish

by wonuza



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, M/M, a grand time was had by all, bacchus!soonyoung, nymph!wonwoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 04:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14686644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonuza/pseuds/wonuza
Summary: adjective1.  sumptuously rich, elaborate, or luxurious2.  (of a person) very generous or extravagantverb1.  bestow something in generous or extravagant quantities upon





	lavish

**Author's Note:**

> endless wine and smooches: the au.
> 
> soonyoung is the god of wine and wonwoo is part of his forest nymph entourage or something. i dont know. miss ao3 user cuddlebone made one (1) tweet and dms were exchanged and now we have this. SURPRISE #rabaamber [#wonubone](https://i.imgur.com/i83O8gh.png)
> 
> anyway this is just a small thing (i know ok but 3k is small for me) and both of us are probably going to be posting small things periodically whenever we feel like. i probably shouldn't have given time and effort to this when i have so many other wips, but like. sexie wine boy. who could resist. NOT ME

Wonwoo wakes in a bed.  Usually, he wakes in the boughs of a tree, or in a particularly soft patch of moss, but no, this is definitely a bed, and a large one at that.  His head feels fuzzy, as do his memories of the previous night—though judging from the memories he has from _before_ he apparently passed out drunk, he feels certain he's embarrassed himself, and in front of Soonyoung no less.  In front of a god _._ In front of the god of _wine_.  Blearily, he sits up amidst the collection of plush blankets and the array of fancy pillows and before he can finish getting his bearings and figure out just whose bed he’s woken up in, someone speaks.

“Morning.  How are you feeling?”

The voice is sleepy and warm, like its owner has just woken up—and when Wonwoo finds its owner that does appear to be the case.  Stretched across one of the chaises on the opposite side of the luxuriously decorated tent is Soonyoung himself, lit up prettily by the morning sun and grinning lazily, laurels sitting crookedly atop his head.  Wonwoo feels his cheeks start to heat up immediately at the realization of where he is, and the uncertainty of how he got here.

“I’m in your bed,” he says, finding himself unable to form any other thoughts—or, forming a great many other thoughts, but unable to articulate them.  It makes Soonyoung laugh, loud and musical.  He stands and stretches with an enormous yawn before looking down, frowning at the wrinkled, bunched up state of his toga, and then finally making his way toward the bed, cautiously enough that Wonwoo can tell he's silently asking for permission.  Imagine a _god_ asking Wonwoo for _anything_.  When Wonwoo doesn't seem to have any objections (how could he?) Soonyoung sits down gingerly and turns to face him.  Wonwoo swallows, runs a hand through his hair (he notes grimly that he must have lost his flower crown at some point last night,) clears his throat, and continues.  “I may have had too much wine.”

“You didn't have that much,” Soonyoung says, raising an eyebrow and smiling.  “Lightweight.”

It puts him at ease a little, Soonyoung joking with him.  “Everyone is a lightweight compared to you,” he retorts.  He ignores the fact that he’s not been drunk much before last night—never, really, but he doesn't want to tell Soonyoung that.  (He's pretty sure Soonyoung knows anyway.)

“Nonsense.”  Soonyoung smiles fondly and moves a little further onto the bed so he can reach over to pat Wonwoo on the head, cooing “It happens to the best of us.”  Wonwoo rolls his eyes, then closes them, wincing as his head throbs a bit and preparing a snarky response about how he’s pretty sure Soonyoung would have to drink his weight in wine to get anywhere close to drunk—but it dies in his throat as he feels Soonyoung’s hand caress his cheek.

“I could have taken the couch, you know,” Wonwoo starts, opening his eyes and trying to regain his footing again, but it’s very hard with the way Soonyoung is looking at him and he ends up leaning into Soonyoung’s touch before he can stop himself.  Soonyoung notices, of course, and beams.  “It's unbecoming of a god to give his bed to some random nymph.”

Soonyoung scoffs, smile returning to his face immediately after.  The hand on Wonwoo’s cheek drops, and Soonyoung trails his fingers down Wonwoo’s arm and slips his hand into Wonwoo’s.  “You're not a _random nymph_ , Wonwoo, honestly.”  He holds Wonwoo’s gaze for a second or two, gives his hand a squeeze, then twists around to let himself fall backward onto the bed—only Wonwoo is in the way, so he ends up draped across his legs—and closes his eyes, humming contentedly.  He shifts his position until his head is comfortably in Wonwoo’s lap.  “I’d never have fallen asleep.  This bed is much too big for me to sleep in alone.”

“I think it's big enough we could have shared, _Highness_.”  Wonwoo watches Soonyoung's brows furrow as he cracks one eye open and frowns for a second.  He hates being called Highness.  Wonwoo had learned that the first time he’d ever been alone with Soonyoung.  (It hadn't been at a celebration, or a dinner, or a party after some extravagant performance—he’d seen Wonwoo heading into the forest for a walk, and called out to him to ask if he could join him.)  Wonwoo laughs silently, nose wrinkling and eyes sparkling, and eventually the offense clears from Soonyoung's expression and he smiles.

“That would have been awfully forward of me.  It would hardly match the chaste, respectful image I’ve carefully curated for myself.  How would it _look,_ Wonwoo? _”_  Wonwoo chuckles at the absurdity of the notion of a _chaste_ Soonyoung, and starts stroking his hair absentmindedly.  Soonyoung’s eyes slip closed again and he gives a long, satisfied sigh.  Watching him preen under the feeling of Wonwoo’s fingers combing through his hair makes his heartbeat kick up.  After a minute or two he opens his eyes, blinking slowly up at Wonwoo, and when he speaks again his voice is soft, dreamy, like he'd been close to falling asleep in Wonwoo's lap.  “You're an adorable drunk, by the way.  How much do you remember?”

Wonwoo considers.  He remembers being at Soonyoung's side for most of the night—but that's nothing too far out of the ordinary, especially lately.  He remembers Soonyoung’s arm around him as he leaned against his shoulder, but...Soonyoung is touchy, affectionate. That's happened plenty, _especially_ _lately_ , and he’s had to tell his friends over and over that there’s nothing happening, it’s just how Soonyoung is.  He remembers drinking, much more than he normally would have, probably due to the fact that he also remembers Soonyoung offering him his own jewel encrusted goblet more than once.  The bits and pieces only get blurrier and more unbelievable from this point: he definitely doesn't usually end up in Soonyoung's _lap_ , but that seems to be the next memory fizzing to the surface of his mind; that, and Soonyoung’s voice murmuring softly, lips against his ear—murmuring things Wonwoo  _must_ have made up.

“I remember...some.”  Soonyoung gives him a knowing look, raising his eyebrows and grinning.  Wonwoo thinks he can remember looping his arms around Soonyoung’s neck and being lifted into his arms, but he might have dreamed that.  He might still be dreaming, might have dreamed all of this.  (But he had to have ended up in Soonyoung's bed somehow, right?)  “I suspect you let me make a fool of myself.”

Looking down at Soonyoung, Wonwoo notices he's managed to knock his laurel wreath even more askew, and now that he’s _really_ looking, he notices that there are tiny flowers braided into it, and some in his hair.  Wonwoo lets out a mildly annoyed puff of air through his nose, because this seems to be his own handiwork, and he definitely doesn’t have any recollection of that, and who gets so drunk they put _flowers in people’s hair?_

“Well, Wonwoo, my darling,” Soonyoung begins, and Wonwoo flushes, “you know I make a point to be the biggest fool at my parties, so what would it matter?”  Soonyoung sits up then, and eyes the state of Wonwoo’s tunic before smoothing some of the wrinkles.  He leaves his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders once he's done, watching Wonwoo’s skeptical expression.  He tucks an errant lock of hair behind Wonwoo’s ear, and takes it upon himself to try to tame what is undoubtedly terrible bedhead.  “You weren't foolish, love,” he mutters as he works.  “Just clingy.  It was sweet.  You have nothing to worry about.”

Wonwoo feels dazed, listening to Soonyoung’s voice and watching him, taking in every detail from the flowers in his hair to his perpetually rosy cheeks to the tiny flecks of gold leaf he’s taken to sprinkling in his hair and pressing under his eyes on special occasions, now fallen and clinging to his shoulders.  He blinks a few times as what Soonyoung said sinks in.  “You ought to stop doing that.”

Confused, Soonyoung tilts his head to one side.  “Doing what?”

“Calling me love.  And _darling_.”

“I call everyone darling.”  He doesn't.  Although he gives affection freely and genuinely, it's never quite _personal_ , or intimate; those looking closely enough can see there's always a thin layer of caution and discerning between him and whoever he addresses.  Either way, certainly no pet names, and yet he's been calling Wonwoo a wide variety of them lately.  Wonwoo doesn't bother to point any of this out, because the way Soonyoung says it suggests that he’s very much aware.

So instead, Wonwoo fakes offense.  “And here I thought I was special.”

Soonyoung looks down then, almost shyly, if a god could look shy.  “Sharing my bed is special, you know.  It's...it’s a bit of an honor, actually.”

And that's another thing, isn’t it?  This is hardly the first time someone has passed out at one of Soonyoung’s parties, but they don't end up in his bed; that’s customarily reserved for the conscious.  Wonwoo has often wondered what it would be like, but...ever since he'd begun spending more time with Soonyoung, he doesn't think he'd be excited at the prospect of having to share him with other people, even for just a night, even just to find out what he's missing out on.  The truth is that having Soonyoung's attention on him during their walks has made Wonwoo want _all_ of Soonyoung's attention and all of his affection for himself, but he thinks being a god with countless admirers and worshippers willing to do anything probably doesn't lend itself well to that.  Wonwoo is willing to do anything too, but he tries to be content with the attention he does get, to avoid getting jealous, growing bitter over things that are simply in Soonyoung’s nature.

It isn't hard, really.  Soonyoung gives him quite a lot of attention these days.

“Is it?” Wonwoo says lightly, half-joking.  “An _honor,_ even though every night you get drunk and stumble in here with gods know who and _share your bed_ with them as well?”

Before Wonwoo knows it, Soonyoung is scooting even nearer to him.  “But you aren't gods know who.  And you aren't some random nymph, either.”  Oh.  A smile spreads across Wonwoo’s face until he's beaming helplessly at Soonyoung.  “You're my _favorite_ nymph.  I’ve been trying terribly hard to make that clear.”  Warmth blossoms in Wonwoo’s chest and he very suddenly feels drunk again as their conversation inches toward familiarity.  The brief, faraway bits of what Soonyoung had been whispering in his ear last night, the bits that aren’t lost to the alcohol—they’re starting to feel less and less like a dream and it’s a little overwhelming _._  More than a little, considering how much time Wonwoo’s spent convincing himself that just because Soonyoung liked taking walks with him and kept him close during parties, it didn't mean there was something _more_ between them—only, now…

Soonyoung’s speaking again before Wonwoo has the chance to finish processing what’s happening.  “And what you’re referring to—that’s not sharing my bed.  That is spending the night.  People who share my bed _can_ spend the night, but the people who spend the night rarely share my bed.”

“I can’t say I understand the difference.  I don’t believe I’ve _shared_ it, exactly, regardless.”

“There _is_ a difference, though.  You’ve ‘spent the night,’ but you haven’t _spent the night._  And I _have_ shared my bed with you.”  He gestures toward the bed and then toward Wonwoo.  “Obviously.”

It is not obvious.  It actually seems quite counterintuitive.  “Soonyoung—”  Wonwoo stops, unsure of where to begin.  He wishes Soonyoung would spit out whatever he's really trying to say, but he doesn't feel right demanding that from a god, and, well.  It wouldn't be Soonyoung if it wasn't a little bit confusing, or a little bit infuriating, or both.  So Wonwoo sighs and looks at him in exasperated fondness and just shrugs a little, smiling nonetheless.

“You don’t believe me, do you,” Soonyoung says, not breaking eye contact.  “That you’re my favorite?”  He’s looking at him so earnestly, determined eyes lined in black and lips stained red.  “How can I convince you?”

The way Soonyoung’s voice lowers in both pitch and volume turns Wonwoo’s breathing shallow.  Again, overwhelming.  “Soonyoung,” Wonwoo says again, much quieter.  He has no idea how to answer Soonyoung's question, just knows that his heart seems to be beating faster and slower at the same time.  He swallows hard and bites his lip and he only realizes he’s been staring at Soonyoung’s mouth when he looks back up and sees him smirking.  Out of mild embarrassment, Wonwoo huffs out a quiet, awkward laugh.  The embarrassment dissipates quickly, because he really has no need to be embarrassed—most everyone looks at Soonyoung like that, after all.  Soonyoung’s smirk softens, though, widens slightly until he's grinning gently at Wonwoo in a way Wonwoo can't quite define, and doesn’t think he’s ever seen before this moment.

He definitely feels drunk again.

After a shaky breath, Wonwoo continues.  “Your laurels are crooked.”  He reaches up and straightens the wreath carefully, avoiding Soonyoung’s eyes but blushing when he feels his gaze on him all the same.  As he brings his hands back down, he lowers his face as well, but Soonyoung lifts his chin back up with one finger, watching his reactions carefully, still with that _look_ on his face.  "Oh," Wonwoo says suddenly, as he realizes the word for how Soonyoung's looking at him. 

Enamored.

By now, Wonwoo has more or less figured out where this is headed, no matter how unbelievable it is, so he’s glad when Soonyoung doesn’t drag out the process of leaning in the rest of the way.  He doesn't have time to doubt or overthink or second-guess before Soonyoung’s lips are pressed to his own, because Soonyoung just holds Wonwoo’s face in his hands, moves forward, and does it.  Wonwoo can't even remember what they'd been celebrating the night before, if it was anything at all; his whole existence has boiled down to this, to the softness of Soonyoung’s mouth and the closeness of his _everything_.  Soonyoung kisses him slowly, intently, like he wants Wonwoo to know he's serious—but sweetly, almost joyfully, in a way that is completely, distinctly Soonyoung.  Godly.  Wonwoo’s brain registers that his lips taste sweet as well, the barest hint of grape underlining an even smaller hint of strawberry.  He's unsure if it's from the near constant wine consumption, or if it's just that Soonyoung already has sweetness running through his veins.  He's leaning toward the latter.

They don’t kiss nearly long enough for Wonwoo’s liking, but he's smiling when Soonyoung pulls away with one final peck, and he laughs, nervous and giddy and light.  He wants to say something, but—Soonyoung doesn’t say anything for a bit, and Wonwoo can’t get any words out anyway, so they just grin at each other breathlessly.  Eventually Soonyoung lets go of Wonwoo’s face and finds his hands, laces their fingers together.  “Alright?”

Wonwoo nods.  “I’ve never kissed a god before,” he murmurs, still a little dazed.

Soonyoung grins mischievously.  “And how did you find it?”

Before Wonwoo can answer, a voice rings from outside the tent.  “Your Highness,” it calls, and Soonyoung scowls.

“Yes?”

“May I—are you—”  Wonwoo hears whoever it is—a guard, presumably—clear their throat quietly and he covers his mouth to keep from laughing.  “Are you busy?”

Soonyoung looks Wonwoo up and down.  “I could be very soon,” he shouts after a second.  Wonwoo snorts, giving Soonyoung’s shoulder a shove, and Soonyoung catches Wonwoo’s hand and brings it to his lips.  He is so sweet.  Wonwoo can’t believe this is real.

“Well—it's just that I’ve received word the other gods have started to arrive and if you're late—”

“Yes yes, thank you,” Soonyoung says, shaking his head and shooting a vexed look toward the voice.  He sits for another moment, rubbing the back of Wonwoo’s hand with his thumb, before sighing dramatically.  “Duty calls, I suppose.”  He clambers off the bed and stretches again.  Wonwoo stands as well, unsure of how to proceed in this situation until Soonyoung pulls him close by the waist.  “You go on ahead,” he says, reaching up and cupping Wonwoo's cheek for just a second.  “We’ll chat later.”

He pulls away.  Wonwoo watches Soonyoung walk across the tent, take a different set of robes out of his wardrobe and disappear behind his folding screen to change and—it’s now, finally, that the uncertainty catches up to him and he realizes he really, really doesn’t believe this is real.  “Soonyoung,” he says, shaking his head and trying not to let his voice get frantic.  “Sorry.  Is this—I don't—”

Soonyoung’s voice floats from behind the screen, melodic and sweet.  “Stop worrying!”  He pokes his head around the side, smiling brightly.  “I told you.  You’re my favorite.”  He disappears again as he finishes changing and just as he steps out his guard calls for him again.

“Highness, you really—”  

“One _second,_ ” Soonyoung shouts over his shoulder as he looks himself over quickly in his mirror.  He hurries to Wonwoo, picking up his sandals from near the bed and pushing them into his hands.  “I’ll find you as soon as I get back.  We can go for a walk.  Okay?”

The excitement in Soonyoung’s eyes makes Wonwoo believe him, and he exhales, still having a hard time wrapping his mind around all this, but no longer worried.  “Yes.  I’ll see you.   _Highness._ ”

Soonyoung pulls him down roughly to kiss him again before stepping back and gesturing toward the door.  “After you.   _Darling._ ”

Wonwoo’s back to being unable to stop smiling.  Even when he pushes aside the gauzy cloth covering the entrance of the tent and emerges into the green forest clearing to a chorus of whistles and applause, he can’t stop.  He blinks the sun out of his eyes and even when his vision adjusts and he can actually see the sheer number of people lounging on the grass who just witnessed him coming out of Soonyoung’s quarters—he can’t stop smiling, even though he knows what they’re thinking, knows how it looks.  He’s only just started to get it under control as he sits down on a stone bench under a shady tree, but he’s barely been sitting a second when Junhui appears next to him, babbling eagerly—“He _carried_ you to bed, you know, I saw him kick out three or four other nymphs who’d been waiting for him—I can’t remember him _ever_ being in there alone with just one person, I _knew_ he liked you best.”

And, well, that sets him smiling uncontrollably again, even as he feels heat rising up the back of his neck and flooding his cheeks for what seems like the thousandth time this morning.

Soonyoung comes out of his tent a minute later, flanked by two guards, and his eyes find Wonwoo almost immediately.  He _winks_ , and Junhui makes this strangled noise beside Wonwoo, smacking him in the arm repeatedly until he turns to face him and he finally stops, regarding him in some mix of pride and admiration.  Wonwoo quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Wonwoo," Junhui says urgently.  "Tell.  Me.  Everything.”

He debates throwing Junhui a bone, because if he doesn’t he’ll just fill in the blanks himself with something much more ridiculous and explicit than what actually happened, but then he decides—he’s alright with that, for now.  Everyone else is already doing just that anyway.  It won’t stay a secret for long, so Wonwoo thinks maybe he should enjoy it while he can.

So he shrugs, grinning.  “Really, Junhui.  There’s nothing to tell.”

**Author's Note:**

> just so everyone knows wikipedia describes dionysus/bacchus as "the god who comes"


End file.
